Overload
by MsMojorisin
Summary: 2D plots a fool proof escape from Plastic Beach! But a fatal mishap involving too much rum, bad dance lessons, and imaginary sea lions throws a wrench in his plans... literally.
1. Sloop John B

2D first realized he'd been on Plastic Beach far too long when he found himself discussing the elemental structure of bananas with a pelican.

"So dey're a good source o' potassium, roight? But potassium's a metal. Metals are awl 'ard an' clunky loik, so 'ow comes ye dun't feel crunchy bits when ye eat a banana? An' 'ow's a banana juss suck bloody metal roight outta da ground? Loik… loik some sorta tasty yellow magnet?"

The pelican shook his head slowly, digesting the blue-haired singer's words. "It seems the magnetic powers of the banana will forever remain a mystery."

It wasn't necessarily the fact that he was talking to a pelican that perturbed 2D, it was that talking to said pelican seemed perfectly normal at this point. Not only that, but the pelican seemed to understand him better than just about any human he had ever talked to.

"So back t' mah main point, yes we need certain metals in our diets. But Ah dun't fink issa good idea fer ye t' be eatin' metal fings ye juss foind on da ground. Else dey woulda told us t' eat da can our veggies came in. Juss seems t' be too much, ye know?"

With that, the pelican let out a gagging cough before launching a garden trowel, a set of keys, and part of a seatbelt buckle out of his mouth and into the air.

"Oh dear, pardon me! How embarrassing," he blurted between coughing fits.

2D shuddered at the slime-covered metallic morsels, but one of the objects caught his eye. Dangling from the set of keys was a familiar keychain in the shape of a tiny disco ball. "Oi, where'd ye foind dose keys?" he asked as he gingerly picked up the gooey mess.

"Oh, found those lying on a table on the deck, I did. I thought the shiny ball might have been some sort of fruit, but it was too hard to chew," the pelican drawled with his nasally accent.

The bluenette flipped through the ring of keys, too excited to mind the mucus now covering his fingers. "Ye moind if Ah take dese?" he questioned.

"Oh yes, I have no need for them. Seems my stomach can't handle them anyway." The pelican suddenly found himself wrapped in an odd attempt at a human/avian bro hug. "Congratulations, blud. Yew are officialy me best mate." 2D patted him on his back as the baffled bird tried to reciprocate by flapping his wings awkwardly. Satisfied with his unorthodox expression of gratitude, the lanky singer pocketed the keys and nearly skipped back into his Tracy Island home.

2D had recognized the gaudy keychain as the one previously dangling from Murdoc's belt loop. As of late, it had gone missing, and was replaced by a spare set, sans Saturday night fever. Scurrying off to the bathroom, he rinsed as much of the pelican's saliva as he could from the keys and examined them. There were at least a dozen of them hanging from the little disco ball, and he was sure one of them would open his bedroom door. 2D was allowed out of his room occasionally to roam the island, get some food, and be used as target practice by the Cyborg, but for most of the day he was confined to the basement, guarded by the massive whale outside his porthole.

That whale…

That whale was going to be an issue when it came time to use those keys. Even if he could open the door, the whale would alert Murdoc, who would send the Cyborg to pummel him into a lovely blue mush once again. No, this plan was going to require some extra thought, a department 2D was not necessarily keen in. However, he was startled out of his cloudy thoughts by a sudden pounding on the door.

"OI DULLARD! Quit wankin' off in there, Ah gotta go!"

"Err, 'old up a tic! Ah'm pissin'!" 2D hastily opened the door and was instantly slammed against the wall by a gnarled green hand.

"Bullshit yer pissin'," Murdoc belched into his face, so drunk that even his breath had to be at least 50-proof. "Ah di'int 'ear ye flush. Wot're ye up to in there, dipshit?"

2D winced under Murdoc's dichromatic glare, not daring to look him in the eye. The Beelzebub-worshiping bassist got very ugly, both figuratively and literally, when he had too much to drink. "Foine, ye got me. Ah really wos wankin' off." 2D wiggled his fingers in front of Murdoc's scowling face. "An' Ah di'int wash me 'ands either!" This earned the bluenette a rocketing left hook to the jaw, leaving him dazed and spitting blood on the floor. However, the remark served its purpose in distracting Murdoc from his previous suspicion.

"Touch me again ye li'l faggot an' Ah'll rip out yer OTHER kidney." The drunken green bassist spat as he slammed the bathroom door. 2D wiped the blood from his lips as he shakily lifted himself off the ground, trudging back to his room. He had a feeling he didn't want to run into Murdoc for the rest of the day, and found it best to retire to the basement to clean his quickly bruising jaw and begin formulating his new escape plan.

The cetaphobic singer immediately closed his curtains, popped in his newly rented copy of Left 4 Head, and put his damaged brain to work. Grabbing a crayon and a sheet of paper, he started laying out the blueprints for his great escape. The first step to the plan would be to distract the whale long enough to unlock the door and get outside. Even though his curtains were usually closed, the whale had some sort of 6th sense telling if 2D was actually in his room. Perhaps it had something to do with echolocation. 2D figured the damn evil thing just had x-ray vision.

Next, he'd have to make sure he didn't run into Murdoc or the Cyborg on his way out. Even after living on Plastic Beach for several months, the dripping cavernous corridors still seemed like something Jareth had concocted a la Labyrinth, and took quite a while to navigate in the dark. Thankfully, Murdoc was usually sozzled into oblivion on the couch by the end of the night, and the Cyborg was recharging in her closet. As long as he was quiet and didn't trip any of the alarms, he should be fine.

The last problem would be getting off the island itself. There were several boats anchored on the shores of Plastic Beach, but 2D had learned the hard way (several times) that they could easily be shot down by Murdoc in his hang glider. Even the banana-mobile wasn't fast enough to outrun the wicked green demon raining death from above. There was only one thing on the island swifter than the banana-mobile, and that was the shark sub. Not only was it quicker, but it was nearly impossible for Murdoc to shoot it underwater. 2D had reservations about driving the shark sub, but he had studied Murdoc's piloting skills and was pretty sure he knew what to do at this point. Checking the ring of keys he had hidden in his back pocket, he noticed one of them was topped with a rubbery shark's head. If that key didn't belong to the shark sub, he didn't want to know what it belonged to. Scribbling down the last bits of his plan furiously, he held out the paper to revel in his handiwork. His "handiwork" turned out to be a doodle of himself firing missiles at the whale with the shark sub while Murdoc crashed his hang glider into a palm tree, but he was proud of it nevertheless. Changing into his pajamas, 2D decided to get to bed early in order to have a full night's rest. Tomorrow was going to be long, and he wanted to enjoy his last day on Plastic Beach.


	2. Somewhere Beyond the Sea

2D first realized he'd been on Plastic Beach FAR too long when he found himself discussing subliminal death threats in Edie Brickel lyrics with a pelican.

"Ah'm tellin' ye, she's out t'get me, blud! Ah mean, dere's no way she could be tawkin' abou' anova' 2D. As far as Ah know, Ah'm da only one!"

The pelican shook his head once again, hiccupping slightly. "Well it seems she has some reservations," he drawled. "She wants someone to stop her before she gets you."

The neurotic musician twiddled his thumbs anxiously. "Yer roight. Maybe she's one o'dem groupies dat's into kinky shit? Loik, she loves me, but she wonts t'strap me down an' bite off me knob whoile she pretends t'be an alligator."

The pelican threw the bluenette a curious look.

2D smirked and winked knowingly.

Their sadomasochistic conversation was then interrupted by a tinny speaker-box voice.

"Master has requested that I bring you lunch," Cyborg held out a plate of questionable looking sushi. "Master has also requested that I inform you that you are a 'skinny faggot that makes Lindsay Lohan look fat' and that 'you need to eat something more than pelican cock.'"

2D rolled his eyes at Murdoc's form of sentiment, and accepted the plate. As of lately, most of the food in the pantry had run out, so they had resorted to fishing. It seemed Cyborg had retained some of Noodle's Japanese heritage, and often made sushi out of whatever sickly, oil-logged fish they could find. 2D usually grimaced at the slices of stinking seafood, but today they fell perfectly into his plan.

"Oi Cyborg, can ye get me a bit o'wasabi wiff diss?" he asked.

Cyborg jerkily shook her head. "'Bit o'wasabi' command pending. Permission to accept command from Dullard must be verified by Master."

2D waited patiently while Cyborg went inside to ask Murdoc if it was okay to bring him wasabi. 2D couldn't control Cyborg directly without Murdoc's permission, but he was allowed to make simple requests, granted Murdoc was sober enough to respond to Cyborg. A few minutes later, she returned with an unnecessarily large green hunk in her hands.

"Permission granted by Master to accept wasabi command from Dullard," She dropped the wad of wasabi unceremoniously in the sand next to 2D's plate. "Enjoy your meal."

2D looked pleased with himself as he picked up the huge spicy chunk. Cyborg's programming was a bit glitchy, since she was constantly making rum runs for her boozy "Master". Why make several trips when she could bring him the whole case? This logic worked well for rum, but not so much for other items. Asking for sugar in your coffee would get you a slightly coffee-moistened pile of sugar, and passing the salt often resulted in injury.

The pelican stared wide-eyed at the now sandy green lump. "Oh my, are you really going to eat all that?"

2D let out a snorting giggle. "Ye fink Ah'm mental? Dere's enough wasabi 'ere t'kill a whale, blud!" Grinning slyly, he left his sushi for the pelican to eat, and carried the wasabi with him down the beach. After passing several totaled cars and a pier with an antique carousel, 2D came across what appeared to have once been a gramophone sticking out of the garish pink rubble.

The cetaphobic vocalist often wondered how it was possible to pay a whale. Currency may have been of no value to the enormous sea mammals, but food definitely was. Bubbling slightly in the top of the contraption was a pool of stinking salty krill. The Dr. Suess-esque machine ran deep under the sand, sucking up sea water and filtering out the tiny organisms that would eventually meet their whaley doom at a set of baleen. Shuddering fearfully at the thought of those behemoth jaws, 2D tossed the gob of wasabi into the whale food with a satisfying plop. Mixing it slightly with an old rusty pipe, he watched the mush turn a sickening shade of brownish-pink, and spat in it once for good measure. Wiping the gunk from his hands, 2D returned back to the spot he had left the pelican in order to finish his conversation. Phase one of "Operation LEG IT!" was complete.

One of the few things 2D would miss about Plastic Beach was the sunsets. The voidoid vocalist was not usually one for sentiment, but he enjoyed watching the contrasting display of blue and orange as the sun melted like a creamsicle into the sea. Digging his toes into the sand, he hummed a simple little tune, losing himself in the moment. "Damn, diss would be great wiff a reefer," he mumbled to no one in particular.

"Reefer request denied. Dullard is not permitted security clearance over marijuana supply."

2D glanced at Cyborg, who had managed to sneak up on the notorious space case. She stood with her hands behind her back, gazing blankly at the horizon.

"D'ye loik watchin' th' sunset too, Cyborg?" he questioned. "Can androids really loik anyfing?"

She kicked the edge of her boot idly into the sand, glassy green eyes still fixed towards the sun. "As I lack an endocrine system, I am incapable of 'enjoying' activities in your definition of the word. I have however retained some of my host's memories, and can recognize enjoyable events and how they would affect me emotionally." She paused to think for a moment. "This sunset has enjoyable qualities."

2D smiled warmly at the robotic girl before catching himself. It was true that bits of Noodle would show through Cyborg's cold demeanor now and then, but it was too easy for 2D to slip into thinking she really _was_ Noodle. Initially, he had tried to befriend Cyborg, hoping she could help fill the void her original host had left behind, but video games and horror movie marathons soon lost their charm when he realized the once joyous activities meant nothing to her. There was simply no replacement for Noodle, and 2D could only give so much love to someone who beat his face in with a rifle butt on a daily basis.

"Master has requested your presence in the living room," Cyborg commanded, breaking the silence. "It would be unwise to deny him."

2D's blood ran cold at the mention of Murdoc. Normally the aging rockstar wanted nothing to do with him, so being summoned usually meant something bad. Something involving _whales_. As he followed Cyborg up the lift he silently prayed to God, Buddha, Cthulhu, and whatever the Scientologists worshiped that Murdoc had not discovered his escape plot. Twiddling his bony pianist fingers neurotically, he prepared himself to duck and cover the moment the doors pinged open.


	3. Barbara Ann

_Hello there! Just wanted to say hi to everyone reading, a bit late I guess seeing as this is chapter 3. I've already received a few faves/alerts for this fic, and one very nice review. I'd just like to thank everyone who's given this fic a look-see. If anyone has any comments or suggestions, please lemme know. I love getting feedback so I can know how to improve my writing. So here's chapter 3, which may or may not have been inspired by one or more of my *ahem* late night college experiences. Enjoy._

When it came to Murdoc, one expected the worst.

And the worst was what 2D got.

Murdoc was strutting around the living room in a rather worn pair of tighty-whiteys, attempting some sort of Roman dance.

"Ah am awl men as Ah am no man an' therefore Ah am a GOD!" The intoxicated Satanist took a long gulp from the rum bottle in his hand, still dancing with his thumb pointed in the air. "Ah 'ave existed since… since when 'ave Ah existed? Oh Satan, AH'VE STOPPED EXISTING! 'Ey 2D! Ye made it after awl! Come, sit maw friend." Murdoc attempted to drag a leather chair with several arrows sticking out of it towards 2D, but ended up tripping and sprawling onto it upside down, his black mop top brushing the floor as his fuzzy slipper-clad feet dangled over the back in a juxtaposition of drunken grace. "Can Ah offer ye somethin' t' drink?" Murdoc asked in a disturbingly cheerful manner as he remained in his inverted position.

2D glared worriedly at the bottle. Getting drunk would ruin his chances of escape, but turning down Murdoc could end up even worse.

"Try the rum…" the bassist purred as he swilled the alcohol in his hand.

The bluenette shrugged and took a swig from the half empty bottle, sputtering as he swallowed the caustic liquor.

"Tastes loik yer drinkin' loighter fluid!" 2D coughed as he handed the rum back to Murdoc's green grasp.

"'Ell, maybe Ah am? Ah could drink maw own piss a' this point an' it'd still taste loik rum." Murdoc shoved the bottle back into his mouth, letting gravity do his drinking for him before spitting the empty bottle comically into the air. "Thar she blows!"

2D eyed the bottle of Rohypnol spilled across the coffee table, which explained Murdoc's unusually high spirits. "Ah 'ope ye at least cook yeself breakfast tomorrow mornin' afta slippin' yeself a roofie."

Murdoc snorted sarcastically. "Loik yer one t' tawk, Mr. Pill Popper. Besides, Ah quite fancy some scones tomorrow mornin'. Wot d'ye say?"

2D snickered, remembering their stoned escapades at the Apollo show. In celebration of the concert, they had combined their weed stashes and rolled the biggest blunt they'd ever seen, toking themselves into oblivion. What 2D hadn't bet on was the PCP laced into Murdoc's pot. For the whole show they were convinced they were puppets, and got horrible munchies for scones. It was actually one of the last times they saw each other before splitting up. The next morning the hung-over bluenette woke up covered in dish soap in Dennis Leary's bathroom, Murdoc nowhere to be found.

"So, wot did ye cawl me up 'ere fo'?" 2D inquired.

"Iss no fun being drunk alone fr' so long. Ah'm not George Thorogood y'know," Noticing the empty bottle, Murdoc stuck his serpentine tongue down the neck in an attempt to lick up the dregs. "OI GIDGET GADGET! Mo' rum!"

Cyborg nudged over the crate of alcohol her master had forgot was only a few feet away.

"Thass bettah," he sighed as he grabbed a bottle and took another gulp, positioning himself right side up on the chair. "This moment requires some music. 2D! A song, s'il vous plait!"

The vocalist drummed his fingers nervously together, not quite sure what song to choose.

"Sing, maw brain-damaged li'l bluebird!" Murdoc swung his fingers dramatically in the air to an unheard tune. "Seriously, sing something, faceache."

Quickly, 2D skimmed through the list of drunk tunes he memorized after years of weeklong benders.

"Ba-ba-ba, ba-Barbara Ann…."

Murdoc nearly spat out his rum laughing before joining in on the harmony. "Ba-ba-ba, ba-Barbara Ann!"

"Barbara Aaaann, take mah 'and, ye got me rockin' an' a-rollin', rockin' an' a-reelin' Barbara Ann…"

Murdoc waved frantically at Cyborg, pointing at an old guitar sitting in the corner. "C'mon, Noods! Get in on this!"

2D wondered if Murdoc realized he had called the Cyborg "Noods" as she picked up the weathered instrument and began to strum. "Went to a dance, lookin' fo' romance, saw Barabara Ann so Ah fought Ah'd take a chance, Barbara Aaaann! Ye got me rockin' an' a-rollin', rockin' an' a-reelin' Barbara Ann, ba-ba-ba-Barbara Ann…"

"Tried Peggy Sue,"

"Troied Betty Lou,"

"Tried Paula too…"

2D glared angrily at Murdoc for the last comment, causing an unsettling silence to fill the room.

"…But Ah knew they wouldn't do! Barbara Ann, take maw 'and, ye got me rockin' an' a rollin', rockin' an' a reelin' Barbara Ann…"

The shitfaced bassist finished off the last chorus himself with an overdramatic fanfare, blissfully unaware of 2D trying to stare daggers into his face. Sloppily, he tapped out a rhythm on a nearby ashtray before attempting an intoxicated tango with Cyborg. He dipped her low, falling sideways onto the coffee table before quickly recovering. "Ah learned tha' move from Gene Kelly, y'know," he mumbled before spinning Cyborg off to 2D. "Wossa matter, Stu? Neva danced with a girl before?"

The dance-illiterate keyboardist grimaced at Cyborg, who had taken both of his hands in her own. She smelled like petrol and latex, and her cold fingers sent an icy chill down his spine. He had never gotten this close to Cyborg before, and he never wished to again. From far away, it was easier to accept her as a very dangerous, angry little girl, but up close her inhuman, robotic features were much more apparent. Her eyes were dead and glassy, and her hair had an unnatural plastic texture. From this distance, 2D could see the rubbery sheen of her fake skin, and hear the mechanical whirs and clicks of her movement. He tried to pry his hands from her grasp, but she had been ordered to dance by her Master, and dance she would, whether her partner was willing or not.

"You lack knowledge in basic dancing. Therefore I will take the lead role, and you will follow." Cyborg commanded as she forcefully yanked the trembling bluenette's hand to her shoulder, and put her own on his hip. "As I put my left foot forward, you will put your right foot back."

"Wait, mah roight or-" A painful yelp escaped 2D's mouth before he could finish, as Cyborg's boot connected with his shin. "You have performed an incorrect action," she informed him coldly. "We will start again."

Once again, Cyborg wrenched 2D's hands in her own, and stepped forward on her left foot. Fearing another steel-toed bruise, he paid extra attention to the movement of her feet. They repeated the motion on the opposite side before pausing for further instruction.

"Now, place your weight on your left foot and slowly drag your right foot in."

2D watched before attempting the move himself. "Oooh, koinda loik th' shuffle in th' Thriller dance!" He hunched his shoulders slightly, imitating the zombies from the music video.

Meanwhile, Murdoc was laughing himself to death in his armchair. "Go easy on th' dullard, Noodle cup! Oi, D, don't let Russ catch ye dancin' with 'er loik this!"

"_Noodle and Russ_?..." 2D, stunned by Murdoc's delusional comment, missed Cyborg's last command, and suddenly found her stepping forward and leaning towards him. Caught off guard by the sudden weight, he toppled backwards in a tangle of limbs and metal.

"Wotch wot ye' doin', shit fo' brains!" Murdoc gave 2D a kick to the ribs as he helped Cyborg up. "Ye'll be foine, Noods. Brush yeself off, 'atta girl…"

2D, thankful that the wrathful Satanist was wearing his fuzzy slippers, sat upright on the floor. "Murdoc… Ah fink ye 'ad too much t' drink."

Murdoc grasped 2D's shirt collar, lifting him slightly off the ground. "'Oo th' fuck 're yew, mother dearest? Ah don't need li'l pissers loik yew tellin' me when Ah've 'ad enough!" Staggering heavily back to his armchair, he put on his bathrobe and fez and began reading a rather burnt copy of Kon-Tiki. "Ye should get t' bed Noods, b'fo Lards comes in an' bitches t' me 'bout bein' a bad influence on ye an' wotnot."

2D rubbed idly at his neck, lifting himself off the floor. "So… diss is wot ye lookin' fo' at da bottom o' awl dose bottles…" he whispered to himself as he slunk back to the lift.

"'Ey 2D," Murdoc called out before he entered the door. "Make sure ye' lock yer bedroom door t'noight. Ah'll not be losin' maw singer t' some moldy arse zombies."

Not sure how to respond to the demented alcoholic's bipolar comment, 2D nodded absently and pressed the down button on the lift console. If there was one thing he was sure about after such an awkward night, it was that his bedroom door was not going to remain locked for long.


	4. Band on the Run

_Greetings once again! As some of you have already noticed, I do also have this posted on DA. Feel free to check it out there as well. There were a few concerns from some of my DA readers that phonetically typing out 2D and Murdoc's accents made the fic difficult to read, to I'm considering posting a "no accent" version on . Some people dislike the accents, and other people like them, so if I get enough requests I'll remove the typed accents on the version. The DA version will remain with accents. A few comments about this chapter, I actually did try to do a bit of research on how 2D could get back to England from the real life Point Nemo. Rapa Nui, the Mataveri airport, and everything else are real places. Apparently the Mataveri airport is the most remote airport in the world, and only flies tourists to the Easter Islands back and forth from Chile. I dunno if Chile has direct flights to England, but oh well. XD This chapter is a bit short, since it was originally part of a big mega chapter that I decided to split up. The next one should be posted shortly. As always, comments, criticism, and reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading so far! ^_^_

"Ah'm Sean Connery, Ah'm Sean Connery, Ah'm bloody fuckin' Sean Connery…"

2D chanted the mantra to himself over and over, channeling the actor's role in "The Rock". While this particular rock was much further from land than Alcatraz, he doubted escaping would be as difficult. Throwing a few last minute items into his knapsack, he mentally went over his plan. The trip back to civilization would take at least two weeks. Thankfully, the shark sub was still stocked with hundreds of cans of Spam after their last impromptu voyage back to Plastic Beach, which had been carefully scheduled by their buddy Bruce Willis. He'd head for the closest inhabited land mass, Rapa Nui, which was part of the Easter Islands. There, he'd catch a plane at the Mataveri International Airport and transfer in Chile before flying back home to England. 2D might have been a bit thick, but right now 2D was Sean Connery, and Sean Connery always researched his shit.

The bluenette froze as he heard a knock on the door, and quickly threw his knapsack under his bed. Cyborg stepped in, a pair of plush reindeer antlers adorned atop her head. Evidently, Murdoc's drinking antics had continued after 2D left.

"I have come to confirm you are safely captive in your room before I lock you in for the night." Her voice sounded unusually crackly, and he noticed rum dripping from her hair and pooling on the concrete. "Confirmed; Dullard is present in bedroom. Pleasant dreams." While the phrase was meant to be comforting, it sent shivers down 2D's spine whenever Cyborg said it. It brought back bittersweet memories of singing "China Girl" to a 10 year old Noodle as he tucked her into bed. With that, she closed the door, locking it with a squeaky click.

The vocalist tapped his heel in anticipation against the floor as he listened to the lift creak upwards. Cyborg's nightly ritual included scanning the premises for security threats, locking up 2D for the night, feeding the guard whale, and finally recharging in the closet. Murdoc had made it a point that Cyborg throw the whale food directly into the water outside 2D's window, a spectacle that the Satanist would often observe, cackling like a madman, from the cameras in his war room. For once, this actually worked to the cetaphobe's advantage. Hesitantly, 2D peeked through his curtains and found himself staring into an eye the size of a dinner plate. Flinching quickly, he ducked and covered under his pillow, nearly flying off his bed in the process.

"_Bloody 'ell, why's it necessary fo' an animal t' be so damn BIG?_" 2D thought to himself as he watched the massive creature swim upwards. The water turned cloudy as bits of krill floated down like shrimpy snow. Anxiously, 2D pressed his nose against the glass porthole, like a child watching a fish tank at the dentist's office. He snickered quietly to himself as the whale sucked up the gobs of krill, filtering it through its baleen. Suddenly, the giant sea mammal thrashed its tail violently and let out an eerie cry as the wasabi-tainted krill reached its tongue. Smiling the biggest gap-toothed grin he could muster, 2D half snorted, half giggled as the whale disappeared into the endless blue depths.

Trying to utilize his time as efficiently as possible, he grabbed his knapsack from under the bed and fished the set of keys out of the diving helmet he had placed over his life-sized Spiderman figure. Fumbling with excitement, he pushed the key into the lock and nearly yelped for joy as the door swung open. Running out into the corridor, 2D bolted directly for the stairs. Murdoc had them installed after the last time the engine room flooded, which had trapped Dave the mechanic down there for a good three days or so. Unfortunately, 2D's plan required turning off the electricity, ruling out the lift as an option. Sprinting up two steps at a time, 2D paused only when he got to the engine room. There he found Dave (or rather his backside) banging on random machinery with a rather abused frying pan.

"Cor blimey, ye troyin' t' leg it again, mate?" He asked.

2D sighed, trying to catch his breath. "Yeah, seems so. But Ah got a wicked good plan diss toime! Ah really fink iss gonna work!"

Dave guffawed, continuing to smack aimlessly with the pan. "Lemme guess, ye want me t' knock out th' powah so th' bloody alarm don't blow th' gaff on ye again?"

2D recalled his first escape attempt. He had managed to reach the front door, only to be caught by a security alarm that Cyborg always set before retiring for the night. "If ye don't moind, blud."

With a single thwack, the lights flickered and went out, leaving them in complete darkness before Dave switched on a flashlight. "Well, best o' luck t' ye, but Ah'll still be savin' up those Sudoku puzzles," he said as he threw another flashlight to 2D.

With a quick nod of thanks, 2D continued to run up the staircase, lungs burning with excitement and exhaustion. After what felt like hours, he stood panting at the top of the stairs, desperately trying to catch his breath. Slowly, he stepped towards the corroded metal door, treading carefully as if he were approaching a dangerous animal. Hands trembling in anticipation, he spun the rusty door wheel and was greeted by a gust of salty wind. The air smelled of burnt rubber, dead fish, and seagull turds, but it was fresh air nevertheless, and to 2D it smelled like freedom. Closing the metal door with a thud, he noticed the pelican and the seagull perched on the metal railing. The seagull stared at him dolefully while the pelican snored loudly, saliva dribbling from his beak.

"Another attempt at escape, is it?" The seagull sighed heavily. "Well Ah do hope you make it off this miserable floating landfill. At least one of us isn't anchored here by our own tragic masochism."

Though he originally felt bad, 2D had eventually learned to tune out the seagull's self pitying rants. He tried to give him advice, but it seemed the seagull simply wanted to stay miserable. All he ever did was complain about the pelican's nerve-grating stupidity, but nothing was stopping him from simply flying away. However, 2D wanted to thank the pelican for coughing up the keys in the first place.

"Oi, Pelican! Wake up, blud!" He placed a hand on the bird's wing, gently shaking him awake. The pelican yawned and shook itself sleepily before suddenly squawking like a broken car alarm, flapping his wings wildly and sending up a flurry of feathers. "SEA LIONS! OH THE SEA LIONS!"

2D attempted to shush the pelican, but his wailing was loud enough to be heard across the entire island. Before he knew it, Murdoc was poking his head out of his bedroom window with a megaphone.

"GAWDAMMIT 2D, AH'M GONNA THROTTLE YE INTA A BOX! YE 'EAR ME? GET YER BONEY ARSE INSIDE!"

2D responded to the rant by dropping trou and gracing Plastic Beach with a "blue moon".

Now infuriated, the livid Satanist threw several empty bottles at his singer, missing by a few feet.

Pulling up his jeans with a giggle, 2D jumped over the entrance railing, bolting directly for the dock. "_Th' powah is still out! Dere's no way th' Cyborg can run up dose stairs an' catch me befo' Ah get t' da shark sub. Ah cn' still make it!"_

Sprinting as fast as his lanky legs could carry him, he dashed over pink sand and plastic debris, blurring out everything but the approaching dock.

Everything including Cyborg standing on the deck above.


	5. Mother's Little Helper

_Once again, thanks for the reviews and faves and alerts, and just reading. Now that this is on , I realize how short my chapters are. XD They look so much bigger on DA! But this one is a bit longer, I think the longest one I have yet. It's a bit more serious than the previous chapters, but in a Murdocy kinda way. This chapter is a bit of insight I guess as to what's floating around that rum-logged mind of his. It also doubles as a cliff hanger! Clever girl! :D You're all gonna hate me for this one. But yeah, I kinda had to switch my mindset and reeeaaally try to think like Murdoc to get this chapter. Got absolutely shit-faced and shagged a few bartenders, but I think I'm pleased with the results. *slips bartender $20* Get me a Mai Tai, wouldja love? This chapter went through some major editing, and I basically had to write it twice cause the original version was too mopey and OOC. Murdoc has issues, BAD issues, but he never talks about them seriously. And I wanted to keep it kinda like that. So here ya have it folks. Gawd I need a drink…_

While securing the island was one of Cyborg's main tasks, keeping her master safe was her prime directive. Her sensors had indicated he was unwell, especially after he violently smashed a bottle of rum against her head.

And damn was Murdoc feeling unwell tonight.

For the most part, life on Plastic Beach was tolerable. An endless supply of rum, a beautiful beach condo, and best of all, no civilization for thousands of miles. It was ideal really, but solitude came with a price. The normally attention-hungry bassist had chosen the forsaken location in order to escape the increasing list of people out for his blood. Cyborg kept away the pirates, isolation kept away the paparazzi, and rum kept away the loneliness, but no amount of alcohol or ammunition would keep the Boogieman from coming for his soul. While he accepted in a way that the Boogieman would eventually get his due, he couldn't help but feel like an old fart that had moved to Florida for one last huzzah before kicking the can. However, he doubted most old farts were armed to the teeth with an automated cyborg, a platoon of submarines, and an arsenal pile big enough to make Paton jealous. When the time finally came, there was going to be guns and glory and pirate guts strewn about the place, and _no one_ would be able to say Murdoc Niccals went out like a coward.

But that didn't stop things from sucking in the meantime.

Murdoc had always thrived in the limelight, and now being deprived of it, he felt somewhat useless. What fun was being drunk if there was no one to listen to your slurred stories? What good was being a sex god if there were no throngs of scantily clad women to shag? And what bloody good was being in a sensational band if all your members were either replaced by robots, floating like massive turds in the ocean, or wanted to shiv you in the face with a rusty fork?

"Where 'ave awl th' good toimes gone, Ray Davies?"

Ah yes, the good times back at Kong, where the worst problems were zombies on the lawn, Noodle on the rag, and 2D getting high on painkillers and putting himself in the washing machine again. They were at the height of their career, bigger than Satan, but things had literally come crashing down after the El Mañana shoot, in ways Murdoc had not intended.

Contrary to popular belief, Murdoc Niccals gave a shit every now and then for other people's emotions, particularly his prized guitarist's. Noodle had been giving off a subtle vibe of… "something" towards the end of Demon Days, a something that the dark bassist was all too familiar with. Russel might've pegged it on hormones, and 2D might've been totally oblivious to it, but only Murdoc knew what she wanted; Normality. Not necessarily to be normal, but to get away from the hassles of the supernatural, to be able to walk down the street without dodging bullets from crazed groupies, to be able to just grow up like a proper child.

As a filthy little mop-topped mutt back in Stoke-On, Murdoc had the same issue. While he purposely made himself a problem and relished his bad reputation, he couldn't help but feel like he was robbed of his childhood rights. By age 8 he knew the streets like any 20 something year old thug, and could run them just as well. Forced to grow up too fast, he tried reclaiming his childhood as an adult, albeit in an extremely adult fashion. And that's how he'd been ever since, too fast to live, and too young to die. Drifting through life carefree and wild, even pissing himself and crying on the floor on occasion.

Sensing that same restlessness in Noodle, Murdoc acted somewhat out of character, and gave her a gift. The El Mañana shoot was his gift to her, a ticket to a new start, with no strings attached except to her parachute. The Satanist's rum-logged memory drifted back to that fateful day.

"Ye sure ye wanna do this?" He asked coolly, his voice trying not to betray his underlying nervousness.

The young Japanese girl double checked that her backpack was secured in a spot the camera wouldn't pick up. "Hai, Murdoc. You went through ahl thee trouble of setting thees up, I won't let you down now."

"Oi, don't go thinkin' this is special treatment or somethin'," the bassist shot back. "Ah cahn't 'ave maw guitarist mopin' around with 'er 'ead up 'er bum cause she cahn't go t' th' mall an snog some blokes. Go 'ave yer 'oliday an' get yer teenage jollies, then it's roight back 'ere."

"Do not worry, no one will know thee evil Murdoc Niccals stooped so low as to help a child." She giggled and rolled her jade eyes at him under her violet fringe.

"Damn straight they won't foind out! Lards'll 'ave maw 'ead if 'ee 'ears Ah shipped 'is precious ickle angel off t' th' Maldives." He suddenly felt the wind knocked out of him as Noodle latched onto him in a tight hug.

"I will not forget thees, Murdoc," she whispered into the grey fabric of his trademark shirt. "I promise to make a swift return, and if any boys try to snog me, they will have to contend with you first."

Finding it impossible to pry her off, he gave in and begrudgingly wrapped his arms around her tiny shoulders. "Just… be careful out there, Noodle Cup." Standing on the tips of her toes, she placed a small peck on his bent nose, and ran off to take her place for the opening scene. Rubbing his mangled honker idly, Murdoc watched the child guitarist skip to the edge of the floating island. "_Ah think this is 'ow a parent must feel b'fore shipping their kid off t' college. Anxious, proud, and suddenly out 10,000 quid,_" he thought to himself as he lit up a cigarette and took a seat with the rest of the spectators.

With Jimmy Manson off his back, Noodle recuperating in an island paradise, and tons of dough to blow from the Demon Days sales, things were finally starting to brighten up.

And then the Boogieman went and rained on his parade like a black cloud with diarrhea.

Murdoc was never positive why the demons captured Noodle, but he had a feeling she was used as bait to lure him. It nearly worked too, after searching months for her down in hell turned up with nothing but some scars and a few more grey hairs on his head. With no leads on her whereabouts, money running low, and just about half the world (and underworld) out to kill him, Murdoc did what any sensible Englishman would do. He bought a condo on a floating landfill, made an android replica of his guitarist, kidnapped his vocalist, and got absolutely plastered.

An island condo not only added to his rockstar reputation, but also doubled perfectly as a hideout from the demons and pirates. Spitting out another album brought in some dough, and having 2D around (willing or not) kept Murdoc from talking to volleyballs. So until whoever showed up first, Noodle or the Boogieman, things were just about as good as they were gonna get.

But once again, that didn't stop things from sucking in the meantime.

It finally dawned on him that even if he did manage to patch things up, he would never be able to bring back those carefree days at Kong. "As good as it's gonna get" was no longer good enough, and it never would be. Out of sheer frustration, Murdoc smashed his half drunk bottle of rum over Cyborg's head, not sure if he was angrier at her, or himself. She was like a teaser of how life used to be, and a reminder of how things were now. A mere façade of the heydays, a ghost of the past he would never be able to relive.

So yes, Murdoc was feeling unwell tonight.

Thus, Cyborg stayed up to ensure her master's safety.

However, in doing so, she neglected her own need to recharge. The rum seeping into her wiring and short circuiting her sensors didn't help much either. And so, when Cyborg was given the order to stop Dullard from escaping, she bypassed some of her safety protocols and went with the most efficient method, in order to please Master and alleviate his unstable mood.

With inhuman speed, she sprinted to the balcony, cutting off 2D from the dock, and pulled out her shotgun.

It was easy to spot her target in the dark, as his cobalt hair contrasted vividly against the pink sand. She waited for him to come closer as she loaded a shell into the barrel. After he approached a few more yards, Cyborg aimed, resting the barrel against the metal railing for support…

and fired.

"Target "Dullard" eliminated. Command "stop Dullard" has been satisfied. Returning to base for memory log upload and recharge."


	6. Cave In

"_Bloody 'ell, wot did Ah trip on?"_ was 2D's initial thought.

Everything had happen in a blur, leaving the vocalist dazed and disoriented. He had been running and suddenly found himself on his back, staring at the stars instead of the dock. Obviously he must have caught his foot on some debris and fallen. _"No toime t' waste, juss shake it off an' stick a plaster on it once ye get in da sub."_ But something didn't settle right with the bluenette. He tried sitting up, but an unknown instinct told him to lie down. He felt weighted to the ground, as if invisible magnets were pulling him to earth.

"_C'mon, Stu! Yer not gonna blow diss juss cause ye bruised yer arse!" _He managed to get on his feet, only to stumble and fall after a few steps. Confused and frustrated, he finally checked himself over to see what was wrong.

"_Wait… wot?"_

Expecting some skinned knees and scraped palms, 2D instead found himself soaked in blood, his t-shirt a shredded mess of holes. The bluenette suddenly felt lightheaded as his stomach lurched and the stars above him began swirling drunkenly. He dug his fingertips into the pink sand as the clammy shock of adrenaline ran through his veins like a cherry slushie.

"Damn… dat wos me favorite shirt."

Murdoc had just reached the front door, muttering enough curses to make a sailor blush, when he heard the shot. Freezing dead in his tracks, he put his head in his palm and sighed darkly. "Just when Ah thought t'noight couldn't get any worse…" he growled as he sprinted around the side of the island, following 2D's abnormally large footprints. The bassist grimaced as he found the trail of bloodstained sand leading to his keyboardist's shivering body.

"Bloody 'ell, D! Wot'd ye do t' yerself this toime?" Kneeling down to examine his fallen band mate, he winced as he noticed the full extent of the damage. At least a dozen tiny holes peppered the singer's torso, and a nasty rattling sound could be heard with each shaky breath. Murdoc bit his lip grimly as he placed a hand on 2D's shoulder. "C'mon D, say somethin'. Quit freakin' me out, mate."

"T-… tosser…" he managed to stutter before coughing up blood onto Murdoc's sleeve. Cursing frantically, the Satanist shouted for Cyborg.

"GET YER RUSTY ARSE OUT 'ERE, YE BITCHY BUCKET O' BOLTS!"

Sure enough, the robotic girl leapt off the deck onto the beach below, landing with frightening grace. "Order prompt engaged, Master."

The flashlight Murdoc had in his back pocket connected forcefully with Cyborg's cheek.

"Yer going t' FIX THIS," he snarled as he pointed a clawed finger at the wailing, gory mess on the ground. "Bring 'im inside t' th' study. NOW."

Cyborg could not compute why her Master was angry with her, considering she had completed her task. But nevertheless, she drug Dullard haphazardly across the sand by his ankle, ignoring his high-pitched cries. Once again, her censors indicated she had been hit in the back of the head with the flashlight.

"Jesus CHRIST th' point is t' NOT kill 'im!" Murdoc barked as he picked up 2D himself. The bluenette's thin frame felt far too cold as he trembled violently in the bassist's arms. "Ye tell anyone Ah carried yew loik this an Ah swear t' Satan Ah'll throw ye t' th' whale."

Expecting a frightened reply at the mention of the whale, Murdoc was only answered with a gurgling cough and frantic panting. "_Shit, this really ISN'T good,_" he thought grimly. "Cyborg, go tell that overpaid arsecrack t' get th' power back on. There's not enough toime t' carry 2D up awl those stairs."

With a quick salute, Cyborg ran ahead while Murdoc carefully carried the fallen keyboardist to the lift.

"Keep tawkin' t' me, mate. We don't need ye blackin' out just yet." The Satanist requested.

2D simply gritted his teeth, grabbing onto Murdoc's wrist like a vice as he shuddered painfully. "C'mon, ye get through this an Ah really will whip up some scones fr' breakfast!"

"Ah'm gonna die, Ah'm g-gonna die, oh Jesus CHROIST Ah dun wanna diiiieee," he whined as his nails dug angry half-moons into Murdoc's forearm. "Please, jus… just lemme go 'ome…"

The Faustian bassist's two-toned glare softened a bit as he attempted to calm the hyperventilating bluenette. "Y'know, part o' me thinks yer roight, D. Yer probably wonderin' wot ye did t' deserve awl this. Ye wanna leave? That's fine." he drew a determined breath as he continued his speech. "But then anotha' part o' me thinks, wot if by some miracle we stay, an' we actually make it out o' 'ere? Someday Ah moight look back on this an' decide that savin' yew wos th' one decent thing Ah wos able t' pull out o' this whole godawful, shitty mess."

2D gazed up at Murdoc with eyes like watery inky. "Yew… yew stole dat fr-from Savin' Proivate Ryan…"

The Satanist grumbled and rolled his eyes. "Y'know wot? Ah fink Ah preferred when ye weren't talkin'."

By the time they reached the lift, some colorful language and the banging of a frying pan could be heard from downstairs before the lights flickered back to life. Murdoc jammed the lift button impatiently as Cyborg returned to his side.

"Command "threaten Mechanic/restore power" has been satisfied. Returning to base for memory log upload and recharge."

"Loik HELL yew are! Did ye f'rget about THIS?" He nodded to 2D's tense body in his arms.

"Command "stop Dullard" has already been satisfied. Returni-BZZT" Cyborg was cut off from finishing her sentence as Murdoc kicked her in the gut.

"Yer not goin' anywhere until ye 'elp 'im, yew malfunctioning twat!"

"Command "help Dullard" conflicts with initial programming. Acceptance of request requires altering of Dullard protocol parameters. Change Dullard user level from "detainee" to "guest"?"

The lift finally dinged open and Murdoc repeatedly pressed the button to the study. "Sure. Wotever. Y'know, that sodding iPad was easier t' figure out than yew."

Starting to get tired of carrying 2D's weight, Murdoc gingerly set him down, sitting him upright against the wall. It was then that the bassist noticed the frightening amount of blood that now stained both their shirts, filling the lift with a tangy metallic scent. The singer was barely conscious, his lips changing color to match his hair. Murdoc knelt next to him, worriedly putting a hand on his forehead.

"Gawdammit 2D… if yew die, Ah'm gonna kill yew."

Cyborg stared at 2D for a moment, mechanical whirrs from her head indicating she was processing something. "Pulse and blood pressure are dangerously low. Med-scan detects extensive damage to the lungs and substantial blood loss. Immediate surgery and blood transfusion are required to-"

"And 'ow do yew suggest we do THAT Dr. Obvious?" Murdoc barked at her.

"I assume that Master is completely capable of such a procedure, since Master has acquired a Doctor's degree in medicine."

The Satanist sighed angrily as he remembered the internet doctorate he bought that allowed him to experiment on monkeys. "No, Cyborg. Ah do-" Before he could finish, he was startled as 2D violently coughed up more blood, a nasty gurgling noise coming from his throat as his eyes started rolling back into his head.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT! Yew are not allowed t' die, Tusspot! Ye 'ear me?"

2D did hear Murdoc vaguely, but his voice seemed distant, like someone calling down at him from the top of a deep well. He had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something important was going on, but he was too busy finding shapes in the multicolored TV static fizzling around the edges of his vision to care. The feeling was similar to a painkiller high, but infinitely more intense. He felt that familiar sloshing in and out of consciousness, but also a sort of reassuring inner peace, like every problem in the world was suddenly okay.

"_Buddha on a bicycle, Ah dunno wot Ah took but Ah gotta get more o' diss!_" 2D thought to himself cheerfully. "_Y'know wot? Ah fink Ah'll give Rachel a cawl tomorrow. Ah'll cook up some strawberry pancakes, juss loik she used t' love, an' we cn' juss loie in bed awl day t'getha list'nin' t' Psychedelic Furs records._"

"C'mon D, stay with me."

" _Ah knew Ah shoulda married 'er when Ah 'ad da chance. Ah'll go finish up me law degree, an we'll get a li'l cottage in da Isle o' Wight an live t'getha till we're 64. Ooh, an' Noodle cn' be da flowah girl!_"

"Ye cahn't do this t' me, Faceache!"

"_We'll need t' buy extra champaigne fr' Muhdoc. An foindin' a tux fr' Russel's gonna be tough… Y'fink iss possible t' put a tux on Del?..._"

"…Stu?"

"_Iss getting' late, Ah'll tawk t' Rachel 'bout it tomorrow. Ah fink Ah'll cawl it a noight._"

"STU!"

"_Tomorrow's gonna be great…"_

**AN**

_Alright, you all hate me now. XD *prepares for certain onslaught of slings and arrows from angry fangirls* I wanted this chapter to be serious, but not too serious. Gorillaz never take anything seriously, even serious stuff. Like, seriously. XD I had a big mental debate on whether 2D would be angry and bitter at Murdoc for getting him shot, or if he'd be too scared to be mad and just wig out. I chose the former, because 2D has never been a very angry person. The past few interviews he's grown a set and stood up to Murdoc, and even tried to beat him up (to little avail). But in the end, I think 2D's spastic side was much stronger than his ability to hold a grudge, especially with death on the line. I wanted his death to be kinda sad but sweet; melancholy if you will. Because that's how he lived. Also, the Rachel he's talking about is Rachel Stevens, one of 2D's ex-girlfriends that Murdoc managed to scare away. I thought about choosing Paula, and 2D has been known to truly miss Paula, but they left on a rather nasty note, and I could never see them coming back together. Rachel and 2D's breakup seemed more mutual, since she admitted they were "deeply in love, but it's just that Murdoc". He kept hitting on her till she couldn't stand it anymore, and she threw a drink in his face and stormed off. There's also a forum post where 2D found out he received a Valentine's day card from Rachel, but Murdoc had stolen it. So it seems like they could actually work again if Murdoc wasn't a sod, and 2D wasn't busy trying to shag every damn girl who rode the bumper cars at his dad's fairgrounds. So yeah. I resolved your cliffhanger with another cliffhanger. And before you all show up at my door with torches and pitchforks, please read the next chapter when I post it. Cheers. 3 _


	7. Paranoid Android

"_4/4 C B C BGEB ACD#D GEB 3/4 A Cb BC BA… D… Ab…?"_

2D bolted upright, gasping for breath as he surfaced back to consciousness. Twisting his head about like a paranoid owl, he found himself lying on the couch in the study, a stained blanket draped across his otherwise bare frame. Tentatively, the bluenette poked at his chest, wondering if the events from the night before had really occurred.

"_No, couldn't 'ave been a dream. Felt too real. An 'ow else did Ah end up naked in da study?_" The voidoid vocalist flexed his bony fingers curiously as he scraped up his memories. "_Did… Did Ah die?"_ 2D wrapped the blanket around his waist and stood up, swaying slightly, as he walked over to look at his reflection in the fish tank. He sure didn't look dead, and if anything he felt much better than usual, save for a slight grumbling in his stomach.

"_Dead people dun get 'ungry, Ah must be aloive! Unless…_"

Murdoc was in the pantry, attempting to figure out how to slice a mango, when he was startled by a glass-shattering scream. "_Shit, Ah take it 2D's up,_" he thought to himself. "OI CYBERDUMP! Go keep Faceache from killin' himself again, would ye?" He shouted down the hallway as he sprinted to the study, mango in hand. He arrived to find Cyborg grinding 2D's face into the carpet as she held him in an armlock, the lanky man persisting to struggle.

"Guten morgen, love! Were you expectin' eggy weggs and steaky wakes fr' breakfast?" Murdoc chuckled to himself.

"Dun come near me, Murdoc! Ah cahn't control meself!" 2D yelled through a mouthful of tan nylon.

Murdoc, giving up on eating the mango neatly, began chewing off the thick green peel with his serrated teeth. "Wot th' fuck 're yew on about, shit fr' brains?"

"Ah'm a gawdamned ZOMBIE, Murdoc!" 2D cried in hysterics. "It's da only expl'nashun! Ah'm dead an' Ah'm 'ungry an' Ah'm gonna eat yer soddin' brains loik KFC!"

Murdoc nearly choked on a chunk of mango as he burst into fits of laughter. "Izzat wot ye've got yer panties in a bunch about? Relax mate, yer not dead. Ah cn' attest t' that personally."

The nearly seizuring keyboardist calmed down, and Murdoc nodded at Cyborg to release him. "Awright den, so wot did 'appen?"

The Satanist spat another wad of mango peel onto the floor as he flopped unceremoniously on the sofa. "First off, get 'at blanket back on. Issa long story, an' Ah don't wanna have to tell it while starin' at yer blueberry bush."

2D blushed deeply as he realized his blanket had slid off in his fight with Cyborg, and quickly wrapped himself in it like a cocoon.

"Right then. D, yer not a zombie, an' yer not dead," Murdoc flinched as he took a particularly juicy bite of fruit, wiping the nectar dribbling down his wrist on the sofa cushions. "But… yer not entirely human either."

2D's face dropped in confusion. "Look… remembah 'ow Ah made Cyborg out o' Noodle's DNA?" The vocalist nodded his head like a child paying attention to story time. "Well, we did that t' yew too. Stuck some blood samples in th' thing and SHOOMP! We've got Stu Bot!"

2D stared at Murdoc in horror, his jaw nearly hitting the floor. "…WOT?"

The bassist tossed the remnants of his mango behind him and lit up a cigarette. "Aftah Cyborg turned ye inta Swiss cheese, there wosn't much we could do. Yew were tets up by th' time we got t' th' lift. So we shoved wot wos left o' yer brains inta a cyborg body. Brilliant, aren't Ah?"

2D subsequently leapt across the coffee table and grabbed at Murdoc's stubbly green throat, surprised at his sudden strength. Usually the older man was easily able to knock out the twiggy bluenette, but even a sucker punch to the face barely fazed him. "Ye fink diss is brilliant? Ah'll flippin'-snrrrt, YARGH! No one rubs me out ye sonnuva-!" 2D paused as he heard the distinctive click of a pistol being cocked behind his head.

"Sensors indicate target "Dullard" is a threat to Master. Bodyguard mode engaged. Cease and desist this action in 5 seconds or you will be terminated." Reluctantly, he let go of Murdoc's neck and slowly backed away.

The demonic bassist groaned, coughing slightly as Cyborg attended to his injuries. "Wot th' fuck did ye want me t' do? Leave ye fr' dead? Ah saved yer life, yew ungrateful twat waffle! Yew don't get t' screw me over loik that, D. Yer in MY band, an' Ah own yer arse, an' no one is goin' anywhere UNLESS AH SAY SO!"

2D glared at Murdoc with napalm-fueled hatred burning in his black eyes. He wiped at his nose and expecting oil or hydraulic fluid, instead found blood.

"Ah told yew, yer still somewhat human." Murdoc grumbled. "Ah didn't want another automaton like Cyborg glitchin' about th' place, so Ah downloaded a medical textbook into 'er and she put yer brain into yer new body. That an' yer vocal cords. Ah cahn't 'ave a singer 'oo sounds like Steven Hawking. Yer wired up like a normal human, just mechanical."

The vocalist stared longingly at the cigarette in Murdoc's mouth until he finally gave in and tossed one to 2D. "So Ah cn' still do fings loik normal? Loik eat an' smoke an' take a bath?"

The Satanist took a long, much needed drag of nicotine. "Ye cn' do everything ye've always done. Plus some upgrades that Cyborg will show ye 'ow t' use."

2D stared down at his blanket with a perturbed look on his face. "Cn' Ah still wank?"

"Loik Ah said, everything ye've always done," he exhaled, watching the pillows of smoke spiral upwards and dissipate in the air. "So ye'll still need a pair o' tweezers an' a magnifyin' glass."

2D scowled, but shrugged off the insult. "So wot did ye do with th' rest o' me old self den?"

"Sold as much o' yew as wos possible on th' internet. Yer lungs were thoroughly trashed, but th' rest o' ye fetched over a million quid!" Murdoc exclaimed cheerfully. "Ye'd be amazed 'ow much people were willin' t' pay fr' yer greasy organs. Ah think Lady Gaga turned yer hair into a new dress, and some loony bird in Spain's got yer heart in a jar."

The keyboardist wasn't too fond of the idea that random strangers now owned his body parts, and felt alienated by the fact that he had become something he didn't understand. He suppressed the urge to attack Murdoc, lest he get shot _again_ by Cyborg. Stubbing his cigarette butt into the coffee table, he got up and trudged towards the lift. "Wotever. Ah'm puttin' some proper trousers on."

"Oh fr' Christ's sake 2D, would ye-" Murdoc objected, but was cut off.

"It's Stuart." The bluenette hissed between the gap in his teeth. "Stuart Pot. Ah wos born an original, an' Ah will NEVAH be yer copy."

Leaving the bassist fuming as the lift doors slid shut, 2D snickered and gave himself a mental high-five. "Hehe, dat wos a wicked comeback." As he waited for the elevator to descend to his room, he examined the backs of his hands cautiously, like he was afraid his new body would attack him. Every detail was exactly the same, from the freckle on his left hip to the poorly scrawled tattoos across his biceps. Curious, he snapped his fingers a few times, half expecting a USB port to open in his head like on Doctor Who. Slightly disappointed, he studied himself for any other robo-benefits that might have been installed. "Go go gadget… sumfink!" he shouted as he struck a dramatic pose, to no avail. He scratched his head in thought before pressing on his palm with two fingers. "Spidey powahs?"

The lift doors screeched open and 2D, frustrated, fell like a sack of concrete onto his bed, remaining in his unorthodox position and pouting at the opposite wall. He was furious with Murdoc for nearly killing him for the umpteenth time, and throwing yet another wrench into his life's plans, figuratively and almost literally. The brain damaged man was still trying to grasp the concept that he was now a cyborg, yet the idea kept slipping out of his reach, like a particularly slick bar of soap.

"_Chroist awlmoighty, 'ow am Ah s'posed t' 'splain diss t' mum?_" 2D wondered to himself. "_Oh 'ello mum. Naw, everyfing's foine, 'sept Ah'm a bleedin' robot now. Why o'course ye cn' buy fridge magnets t' stick on me!_"

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a forceful knocking on his door. "Sod off, Murdoc," he grumbled into his pillow.

"Incorrect identification. Master is currently on the deck level, feeding baking soda to the seagulls," Cyborg droned.

"Foine den. Sod off, Cyborg," he mumbled in reply.

The mechanical girl disregarded his warning, opening the door anyway. "Command "sod off" not recognized. Logistics indicate subject Dullard requires data base upgrade concerning his new enhancements. I will establish a wireless link between our hard drives and transfer my operation manual data base to you."

"Yer gonna link our wot nows?" 2D yelped before Cyborg grasped his face in her hands, staring directly into his eyes. He felt a sudden spark run down his fingertips as a mysterious instinct kept him from moving. Electronic beeps and whirrs echoed through his mind, and he started to feel woozy. Finally blinking and breaking the link, 2D collapsed on his bed, holding his now throbbing head. "Wot da 'ell wos dat fo'?" He shouted, increasing his own headache with his high volume.

"Pain is a momentary side-effect of establishing a data link for the first time. Your human brain is not accustomed to outside entities penetrating it," she explained. 2D wondered if she knew how dirty she was making this all sound. "However, your pain receptors can now be controlled manually as part of your new upgrade. Review your operation manual for further instruction."

2D squeezed his eyes shut in agony as the overwhelming amount of information ricocheted around the inside of his skull. Willing the pulsing ache to stop, he felt a slight jolt, similar to when Cyborg started her mind link, and suddenly felt… nothing.

The pill popping vocalist blinked in confusion as the migraine completely disappeared. For the first time since he could remember, his brain didn't feel like it was being drilled with a jackhammer, at least without the help of copious amounts of vicodin. The trademark drowsy sort of high was absent, but for once he could see and think clearly without slurring through a painkiller haze.

"…WOW." Was all he managed spit out as he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.

Cyborg stiffly walked over to 2D's clothes trunk, and dropped a pair of y-fronts onto his face. "Master requires your presence on the beach at 1800 hours for your funeral. Please dress accordingly."

2D began counting on his fingers to translate the military time when he realized what Cyborg had said. "Wait, me funeral?" He questioned.

"Master cremated whatever body parts he was unable to sell, and decided to bury them in traditional human fashion. You will attend this meeting." Before Cyborg turned to leave, she pointed to a tray sitting on the edge of 2D's bed. "Also, Master has prepared a batch of raisin scones for your consumption. Enjoy."

The bluenette sat up and read the bright yellow post-it note attached to the tray. "I love cooking with rum. Sometimes I even add it to the food! –Murdoc" Hesitantly, 2D picked up a vaguely swan-shaped scone and took a bite. "Fuckin' sympathy scones," he mumbled as he chewed angrily. "Ah dun' need no tasty sympathy from no one." Contrary to his statement, he downed the rest of the tray, hungrily licking the crumbs off his fingers, and went to go find something decent to put on. Even 2D thought it inappropriate to attend a funeral in his underwear.

_AN:_

_Bwahaha, you all thought I killed him, didn't you? Well I did! Sorta. In a JK Rowling kinda way. All my readers here are now caught up to the point I left off on DA, so from now on updates will be muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch slower. As in months. Cause I unfortunately have a life, and it's a rather hectic one. There's a few kinks to work out of the next chapter, but it's 99% done. There's one last scene I'm considering revamping. Also, the random letters 2D's thinking about at the beginning of the chapter are my attempt at writing out sheet music. It's a VERY rough version of "Rite of Spring", which apparently 2D had stuck in his head when he woke up from his coma. DA and ff don't allow for the "jazz" font that would let me type out sheet music, and I couldn't really add an actual picture of the music, so I just wrote out the actual notes and time signature. Hope that's understandable. As always, thank you all for the love and feedback you've been giving me. I make a point to thank and reply to everyone who reviews, faves, or adds my stuff to their alert list. _


	8. Blank Generation

STUART POT

1979-2011

"Voice like an angel, arse like a satsuma."

2D stared pensively at the crudely erected gravestone, scratching uncomfortably at the collar of his dress shirt. He couldn't remember for the life of him how to properly tie a tie, and managed to get his neck impossibly tangled in a knotted ball of plaid fabric. Trying not to draw attention to his fashion faux pas, he stood respectfully as Murdoc arrived with a can of "8 O'Clock" coffee appropriately labeled "Das Sod-Meister".

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered 'ere t'day an'… an' this is startin' t' sound like a Prince song. Cn' we just get this th' fuck ovah with? Ah'm sweatin' maw bollocks off in this bleedin' sweater."

Even the foul old man had put on his least stained turtleneck and his gold inverted cross for the occasion. Honestly, 2D wanted the ordeal to be over with as quickly as possible as well. Attending funerals had always made him uncomfortable, let alone his own. "Should someone loik, say a few words or sumfink?"

"Yer a cum-chugging faggot with a brain th' size o' th' kidney stone Ah pissed out last weekend. Anything else ye'd like t' say, Huck Finn?" Murdoc glared as he tried airing out the rings of sweat forming under his armpits.

To 2D's surprise, Cyborg shifted to attention. "Host memory log indicates subject Dullard was well acquainted with original template Noodle. Retrieving host data. Humanoid simulator engaged."

She shuddered and beeped for a few seconds before her expression changed to something frighteningly close to human. For a moment, 2D wondered if he actually had gone to hell and found Noodle, but the bionic girl still seemed too plastic to be completely convincing. However, instead of her usual calculated coldness, remorse glimmered in her glassy eyes, reminding the bluenette of an eerily realistic porcelain doll. Cyborg stepped forward and sighed lightly, cupping her hands behind her back in a very Noodle-like fashion.

"Contrary to belief, black is not a color. It is simply the absence of light. However, my first memory of Kong refutes this definition. The first light I saw after leaving that dark box was black; two black eyes peering curiously into an equally black crate. Never before have I seen something so dark, so black, emit so much light into the world. From the very moment I entered Gorillaz, 2D made me feel like more than just a band mate. He was the brother I never had, showing me the ropes in the strange new jungle that was Kong studios. He had infinite patience with me as a child, for we both understood what it meant to be _mis_understood. 2D understood me before I had a voice, for he listened with his heart, not with his ears. In a world where our spoken words often left others baffled, we communicated clearly through our zen bond, transcending all languages. 2D was a paradox within himself, dark emitting light, understanding through misunderstanding, someone so broken and fractured that made me feel whole. And now that he has left this mortal plane, I will carry his light with me, until we one day meet again. _Namaste._"

Finishing with a slight bow, Cyborg suddenly jerked violently as sparks sprayed from her head, causing part of her hair to catch fire. "Human emotion simulator has encountered a fatal error. Switching application to command prompt. Would you like to send an error report?"

2D and Murdoc stared, completely dumbfounded at Cyborg's unexpected display of humanity, shivers running down their spines.

"Did yew just piss yer knickers too?..." The bassist whispered. 2D, not sure if he should feel honored or terrified, stood petrified on the spot, jaw agape.

"If Ah don't get about a liter of rum in me within th' next 10 minutes, Ah'm gonna have night terrors fr' YEARS. Funeral adjourned!" With that, Murdoc lobbed the can of ashes into the tide, followed by a snarling loogie.

"Y'know dat can's juss gonna wash back up on da beach, roight? Everyfing ye frow into da ocean ends up 'ere." The still perturbed vocalist explained.

Murdoc scoffed lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking back to the house. "There's more truth in that than ye realize, Faceache."

Not quite understanding the cryptic response, 2D followed behind Murdoc. "So wot now? We juss go about pretendin' diss never 'appened?"

"Not exactly," the bassist explain. "We go get shitfaced, THEN we fr'get this ever happened!"

2D's mood brightened significantly at the prospect of alcohol. It'd been months since the last time he'd been drunk, and his fried nerves could use the night off.

"Right then, rum awaits. Let's get pissed!" Murdoc idly kicked some sand at Cyborg, who had buried her smoking head in the ground. "Just… just go to yer closet when ye get that awl sorted out."

Cyborg's eulogy had struck an unnerving chord deep within the vocalist. He was familiar with her intermittent bouts of Noodle-ish behavior, but this particular episode had been chillingly realistic. 2D bit back tears as he followed Murdoc into the lift, finding it increasingly harder to suppress his memories of the once vibrant Japanese guitarist. He couldn't help but feel touched by Cyborg's words though. Praise came rarely to him as of lately, especially any as genuine as the robotic girl's parting words. The melancholy corner of his mind almost wished he really had died, just so hear could hear the actual Noodle recite such a beautiful farewell.

After a few seconds the lift doors ground open, and Murdoc nearly skipped to the globe-shaped bar under his portrait of pirate Murray. Popping open the lid, he pulled out a dark bottle of rum, swilling the contents and gazing at it through the light. "This right here is maw private stock. Good shit, not that gut rot Ah drink half th' time." He grabbed two tumbler glasses from under the bar, pouring the warm amber liquid into each one. 2D, feeling somewhat honored that Murdoc would actually share his expensive liquor with him, reached for a cup.

SMACK.

"'Oo said Ah wos sharin' with yew? Yew get th' cheap shit!"

2D rubbed his reddening hand, wincing slightly. "Wot da fuck did ye pour two glasses fo'?"

"So when Ah'm done with this one…" Murdoc slugged back the drink in one shot. "Ah've got anothah one awlready t' go!" He downed the second cup just as quickly, throwing the glasses behind his head with a crash. "Actually, why am Ah usin' glasses? That's wot th' bottles fo'!" He then proceeded to chug a quarter of the fancy alcohol, finishing with a large belch.

Annoyed, 2D picked up a half drunk bottle of generic rum off the couch, sniffing at it distastefully. "Welp… bottoms up?" He shrugged as he took a swig, immediately spitting it out onto Murdoc's shirt. The keyboardist frantically pawed at his tongue, coughing in disgust. "I'ss full o' bloody fruit flies ye cunt!"

Murdoc grumbled and took off his rum soaked sweater, reluctantly handing 2D a proper bottle. The bluenette gargled the liquor like mouthwash, spitting out a slurry of alcohol and insects. "Guess dat's one way t' make a black 'n tan…" he mumbled unhappily.

Murdoc grabbed the rum angrily from 2D's grasp, attempting to soak up the mess on the carpet with his already dripping turtleneck. "Look, this obviously isn't workin' out. Let's try somethin' else." The green bassist opened the cabinet under the fish tank, pulling out a small ziploc bag and the biggest bong 2D had ever seen.

"Oh hell no, Ah'm not tokin' up wiff yew again!" 2D complained. "Last time ye spiked da weed, ditched me in New York, an' den dey put videos of us stoned awl ovah yew tube! Me mum saw dat shit!"

Murdoc paid no attention to the vocalist's squeals of protest, and proceeded to pack the bowl. "Ah swear this stuff isn't laced. Scouts honor." He winked and held up the traditional Boy Scout hand signal. "Now quit yer bitchin' and do some fuckin' drugs."

Rolling his eyes, 2D flopped onto the damp couch, tossing Murdoc a lighter. The Satanist lit up the hash, inhaling as much intoxicating smoke from the bong as his lungs could handle. Holding his breath for a few seconds, he exhaled, grey clouds dissipating into the ether. "Yeeeerrrrr tuuuuurrrrn." He drawled slowly, handing the lighter to 2D.

The keyboardist placed his lips over the glass piece, causing the bong water to bubble gently as the chamber filled with smoke. Satisfied with the size of the hit, he swallowed up the wispy vapors, slowly releasing them through the gap in his teeth. "If Ah start worshipin' da fridge loik it's a tiki god again, Ah'm gonna shove diss damn bong up yer arse."

Murdoc chuckled as the bong was turned his way, taking another hit. "Sadly, Ah think that'd be th' closest Ah've been t' gettin' shagged since Ah've been on this God-forsaken island."

2D grimaced before lighting up the weed again, trying to forget about his own non-existent sex life.

The bong made its way between the two of them a few more times before they finished it off. A light haze had filled the room as the band mates slunk back into the couch, red-eyed and smirking.

"Oi D, 'ow much ye wanna bet th' seagull and th' pelican are butt buddies?" Murdoc cracked up laughing.

"Dat seagull's too depressed t' boff anyfing," the stoned vocalist replied. "Juss listenin' t' 'im makes me wanna jump off da light 'ouse."

The bassist walked over to the window, stumbling slightly, and stared in awe at the lighthouse. "Ah fuckin' love that lighthouse. It's a HOUSE…. of LIGHT. Ah dunno why we have it though, no bloody ships come 'ere except our own."

"Wot d'ye fink would 'appen if ye put a blackroom inside a light 'ouse?" 2D pondered, scratching his stomach and staring into space.

"Lots o' shipwrecks," Murdoc replied. "But ye'd get some brilliant photos of 'em. Become an artist an' make millions!"

2D focused intently at the floor for a moment, suddenly finding the carpet to be extremely fascinating. "No no no! Ah've got da greatest idea evah! Lemme tell ye!"

"Awright, out with it then!" Murdoc shouted back.

"Okay, so we get a whole lot o' t-shirts,"

"Go on."

"An' we put a really really fat, thug lookin' bloke on 'em,"

"Yes?"

"An' we write, 'Eminem ate too many M&M's' undaneath da fat bloke."

Murdoc laughed so hard he thought his lungs would explode. "That's fuckin' BRILLIANT, mate!"

"Ah know, roight?" 2D managed to spit out through fits of snorting giggles. "People make loads off dose stupid t-shirts!"

Murdoc, having already forgotten his bandmate's supposed stroke of genius, began digging through his collection of DVDs. "Oi, 'ows about 'The Hills Have Thighs'? That's a good one."

"Ah've seen dat one loik, a fousand times. Wot about 'Fear and Moaning in Las Vegas'?" 2D suggested.

"Naw, Ah cahn't watch anything with Benicio Del Toro aftah he offered t' gimme a rimjob at th' Chicken Choker." Murdoc replied as 2D dodged the DVD cases flying across the room. "Oh, Poondock Saints just came in! Let's watch that!"

Something about the lecherous Satanist's last comment perturbed 2D, but he had become fixated with the frayed edges of his shoelaces. The bluenette stared at them in fascination, amazed at the complex weave pattern used to create them. They couldn't possibly have been braided by hand, they had to have been made by a machine. But then how did people make shoelaces before-

THUNK

"Have yew been listenin' t' a thing Ah just said?"

2D rubbed the slowly forming bruise between his eyes where Murdoc's DVD case had met its target, glad that the marijuana had dulled his pain receptors. "Sumfink about Benicio Del Toro an' bums?"

Thankfully for 2D, Murdoc was too intoxicated to bother getting angry at his ignorance. "If Ah evah made sex tape, Ah think Ah'd make maw porno name Clint Eatwood."

"So yew DO eat wood den?" 2D chuckled as he ducked from a hurtling VHS.

"No dammit, Ah'd be th' one getting maw wood eaten! Chroist, do Ah have t' spell out everything fo' yew?" Murdoc rolled his mismatched eyes as he continued watching the x-rated film.

"Ah awlways thought Stuart Sexpot would be a good porno name." 2D suggested.

"Naw, too basic," Murdoc disagreed. "Think o' like, yer favorite actor an'… well, see if it rhymes with anything nasty."

2D scratched absent mindedly at his neck as he thought for a moment. "Sean Connerylingus?"

Murdoc burst into fits of laughter. "Ah think that's the funniest thing Ah've evah heard yew say, mate."

2D beamed with pride from Murdoc's rare compliments, but once again fell suddenly silent as he intently focused on the floor, a meditative look upon his bruised face. Murdoc, irked by the fact that time had decided to slow to a grinding hault, pulled 2D back to reality. "Ground control t' Major Ponce! Ye still in there?" He waved his hand in front of 2D's face until the bluenette jerked up, looking like someone who had just been violently shaken awake. His vacuous eyes, bloodshot from the THC coursing through his veins, had taken on an eerily reddish tone. The only time anyone managed to see his pupils was when he was either stoned out of his mind, sleep deprived, or crying. "Wot's going through that pint-sized mind o' yers, shoe-gazer?"

"Lobstahs," 2D replied succinctly.

"….Lobsters?"

"Yeah, lobstahs. Ah always see dem in little fish tanks at da supah market," 2D explained. "Ah feel 'orrible fo' dem, cause dey look so 'appy and naïve, swimmin' around and doin' lobstah fings. But dey dun know dat prit'y soon, a big 'and is gonna scoop dem up and frow dem in a Jacuzzi from 'ell. It juss breaks me 'eart seein' sumfink so 'appy wiff such a terrible fate a'ead of it…" He sniffled as he started sobbing pitifully into his hands. "Ah wanna tell dem, but Ah cahn't speak lobstah! Ah wanna break open da tank, but den dey'd awl die on da floor, and Ah'd get kicked out! Ah cahn't get kicked outta anymo' supah markets, Murdoc! Where would Ah buy jaffa cakes?"

The bassist slapped 2D out of his hysterics, leaving him teary eyed and whimpering. "This ain't about cake an' lobsters, Stu. Now quite yer yammerin' an' tell me wot's really wrong."

2D drew a deep, shaky breath, wiping his runny nose on the back of his wrist. "Ah wish… Ah wish Ah coulda saved Noodle. Ah fought Ah woulda seen 'er."

"Of AWL th' things ye could've brought up, ye tawk about Noodle." Murdoc fought back the urge to punch the vocalist. The whole point of the night was to try to get her off their minds. "Wot th' fuck do ye mean ye thought would've seen 'er?"

"Aftah Ah got shot, Ah dun remembah much. Juss da inside o' da lift, an' feelin' hot an' cold at da same time, an' juss bein'…. scared. More scared dan even da whale evah made me. But Ah kept finkin', if Ah di'in't make it… at least Ah'd get ta see 'er again. An' maybe Ah coulda 'elped her escape from hell." A small grin peeked at the corner of his mouth. "But Ah cahn't remembah anyfing aftah da lift. Juss loik when Johnnybird took me away in Jamaica an' taught me awl dat Rasta stuff. Ah feel loik dere's awl diss mystical knowledge stuck in me 'ead somewhere, an' Ah cahn't remembah any o' it! Ah just 'ope if Ah did see 'er Ah di'int say anyfink stupid…"

A distant sound of footsteps interrupted their semi-stoned conversation. "Perimeter secured, Master. I have come to retrieve subject Dullard to return him to his quarters for the night." Cyborg said stiffly.

2D waved his hands frantically. "Wait, Cyborg! Ye downloaded awl dat robo junk inta me 'ead earlier, roight?"

"Correct. I established a wifi link and sent you my operator's manual. Is any data in the file unreadable or corrupted?" She asked.

"No no, it wos awl fine," 2D reassured her. "But is dere anyway Ah could loik, send stuff ta yew?"

"I have no need to receive outside transmissions from wireless network "Dullard". I find it most efficient to limit my download rate to only necessary files, in order to avoid viruses and malware." Cyborg replied.

2D shuddered at the thought of what would happen if Cyborg had caught a virus. "I'ss not loik dat. Umm… Ah'm 'avin' trouble readin' some uhh… damaged files. Ah wos wonderin' if Ah could send 'em ta yew an' see if yew could read 'em?"

"Wireless network "Dullard" is not granted access to-"

"Let 'im do it, Cyborg." Her blitzed master commanded. "It's not everyday ye get th' chance t' take a peek at th' other side… sounds like an episode o' th' Twilight Zone or something." He wiggled his fingers and made cackled ominously for dramatic effect.

2D faced Cyborg, trying to remember how she had connected their minds last time. He tried to keep his horribly dilated eyes open as he bit his lip in concentration, staring directly at her. After a few seconds, a shuddering jolt ran up his spine, and his memories from the past 2 days flashed by like a late night b movie in fast forward. The scenes progressed until they reached the present moment, and a sudden spark broke the two painfully out of their trance.

"Well, anyfink neat?" 2D asked as he rubbed his sore temples.

Cyborg whirred and beeped for a moment, trying to process the keyboardist's memories. "Data is saved as an unknown file type. Unable to read data. What program would you suggest to read the files?"

"Try that human simulator you used earlier," Murdoc interjected with a dark grin. "This should be verrrrry interesting."

The bionic girl set to switching from her normal mode, her eyes suddenly growing large with emotion. She stared into space, her expression gradually changing from curious interest, to looking like she was watching a particularly gory horror movie. The whirring from her processors grew louder until she let out a shrill scream, grasping her head in her hands. She writhed on the floor, trying to stop the images playing in her mind, until she finally ran down the stairs, stumbling over the coffee table on her way.

Murdoc, finding the whole episode hilarious, pounded his fist on the sofa arm in laughter. "Did ye see that, Two Dents? Ah think ye finally broke 'er! She went completely mental!"

The Satanist looked over to find 2D fast asleep on the floor, gripping at the shag carpeting like the edges of a blanket. Murdoc scoffed lightly, noticing the knotted tie tangled around the vocalist's neck. He bent down to loosen it, to ensure 2D didn't manage to strangle himself in his sleep. "Fucking twat cahn't even Google how to tie a tie," Murdoc yawned loudly as he scratched his backside and swaggered to his bedroom, leaving 2D snoring peacefully to the backdrop of moaning girls emanating from the tv.


End file.
